


Socks

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [43]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Department of Mysteries, Fred Lives, Human Experimentation, Humor, Ministry of Magic, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #44 of 100 | Neville is the unwitting subject of a Weasley Twins experiment. (#43 intentionally skipped, it is the first chapter of Lost in Time)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Socks

Neville cleared his throat as discreetly as he could, for the dozenth time in as many minutes. On the way down a few floors at the Ministry, to witness a demonstration of a new method of using Bubotuber stems, he beared the brunt of Ron's chuckling while he asked if Trevor was caught in his throat.

Flushed a blotchy red behind his ears, Neville just attempted to return Ron's laugh but ended up with a minor coughing fit instead. With a few brief claps on the back, a bit brusquer than he preferred, Neville's fit subsided. There was no way Ron could know Trevor was lost. For good this time.

Trailing down to the opposite side of the Ministry basements, away from the frozen solid den of Dementors or the northern courtrooms, the group of chatty scholars and herbologists marched purposefully to the demonstration. Soft rustling of robes along the cobblestones was drowned out by the frequent bursts of laughter. Or, it should have been, but he swore he could hear every thread pull along the stones. Neville could not stop sweating, and was sure he'd soaked through his socks.

 _What is happening to me_? Neville hadn't shaken this badly since his first few lessons with Professor Snape in first year. He knew if he'd look at his reflection he would see dilated pupils and a sweaty upper lip. Everything was bright, in focus...too in focus?

Did someone jinx him, or curse him? No one else around him looked half as affected…

"Welcome, everyone!"

Neville startled, expecting to see a ringmaster in a pinstripe suit marching towards him. Fred and George Weasley were dressed similarly enough with their top hats and opposite colored outfits that Neville began to sweat a bit more profusely.

What _had_ Hannah put in his lunchbox?

"Welcome to our demonstration, kindly hosted by our friends at the Ministry, of further applications of an ingredient considered, foolishly, as trash. Debris. Detritus."

"Those are all synonyms," muttered Neville under his breath. Studying alongside Hermione, writing thousands of essays, was hardly fruitless.

Dennis Creevey, who stood close enough to hear him, snickered and held a hand over his mouth.

"...and something we've always seen as a need within the Ministry, you with all of your boring jobs!"

This time Dennis dissolved even further into a laughing fit, and others around him as well. Neville frowned and narrowed his eyes. He rather liked his work in the greenhouses and didn't appreciate Fred's jab at hard work.

"That's right, brother, a cure to tiredness! A temporary kick in the pants to keep you and your teams going. If you all could step this way…"

Neville trudged behind the group, itching at his collar, and weighed the benefits of removing his outer robe. Had he soaked through his button up? What if something exploded and his cloak would have protected him? Why was everything so itchy, anyway?

The twins droned in the way only they could, ripples of laughter going through the crowds at just the right times. He'd rather leave to see a Healer.

"And if you don't believe us, even after all those lovely financial reviews and charts of our tests, take a glance at our own Mister Longbottom."

Mid-fidget, Neville's right hand halted behind his ear but his left foot continued to tap double time. "How do you mean?"

"You've been attentive and hyper-aware of the entire meeting, right?"

"An unending rush of energy coursing through you?"

"No!" snapped Neville, stopping what was sure to be a perfectly scripted back and forth between the two. His eyes clouded, angry red blotches rising high on his cheekbones. "I've been rather uncomfortable this whole time! What did you two do to me?"

George, his bright green tie clashing tremendously with his trimmed beard, held out a hand to Neville, reaching towards his arms, "Mate…"

"No, don't _mate_ me, Weasley!"

Heart hammering against his ribcage, Neville slapped George's hand away and snapped an about-face towards the door. He stomped up and out of the lab, slamming the door behind him, heedless of the rattling jars on the wall in his wake.

A hand grabbed his arm from behind and yanked hard enough to stop him. With his momentum towards the Atrium, he expected to see one of the twins tailing him, but the slight figure of Hannah Abbott gripped tightly around his bicep. Her heels dug into the floor before she caught her balance, falling into him from the force of his halt.

"Neville," she said, breathless after chasing him down, "it's an energy shot. They got me yesterday, put a stem of that damned Bubotuber in my coffee, and I couldn't sleep last night. I hid in the lab to try to catch them alone but you all came in together."

As her lips sent the words rapid-fire through the air, he could smell the hints of coffee behind her mint toothpaste, and a sharp tang of new sweat over old sweat on her skin. Hannah's slightly dilated eyes shone with anger. An anger he reciprocated.

"Tossers!" he cursed. "They can't just test their new theories on _unsuspecting people at the Ministry_."

Hannah's head nodded rapidly and she tugged on the arm she still had a deathgrip on. "Let's go to the DRCMC."

Neville's eyebrows knit in confusion the moment before they shot up in understanding. "Hermione would know _exactly_ how to get them back for this! And fix whatever's happening to us."

"Right! C'mon, we can go up the stairs faster than the lift."

With a wolfish grin, a feeling of retribution crawling up his spine he hadn't felt since seventh year, Neville sprinted alongside Hannah towards the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Fred and George had another thing coming.


End file.
